


Couloir

by ecotone



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, iron lords - Freeform, mountain climbing, mountain falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecotone/pseuds/ecotone
Summary: Do you remember the swirling snow and the cold, cold climb?





	Couloir

Timur falls off the Peak with a yelp. 

Skorri looks back at him as she jumps to the next outcropping of rock, careful not to slip. Efrideet winces in sympathy.

Four of them are climbing the mountain: Efrideet because she’s been looking for a suitable sniper nest, Felwinter because he knows the way, Skorri and Timur tagging along out of curiosity- ‘creative inspiration,’ Skorri says, just before falling off the cliff for the first time. The Titans, ever sensible, are all down below. Silimar is watching from the steps, his blueprints surrounding him. 

(Efrideet had almost fallen on him, earlier. He’d thrown up a Ward to sit in, after that.) 

Felwinter slides down a few feet, waiting beside Timur’s Ghost. Its shell spins a few times, and Timur emerges with a flash of blue light, groaning as if his ribs are still broken. 

“I don’t see how Finnala manages to shrug that off so easily,” he mutters, frowning. Skorri says something melodic about Radiance, Efrideet says something about just _climbing_ the peak already, she’ll toss everyone up if she has to. Felwinter and Timur, already a few definitions into some conversation about Ghost revival, don’t seem to hear. 

Efrideet hangs off the cliff face nearby, hand over her eyes to block out the snow. She watches as Felwinter jumps carefully from step to step, Timur a few scant inches behind. Skorri sits just below her, humming, waiting for the path to clear. 

Once the two Warlocks reach a sizable jut of rock, Efrideet jumps to join them, boots slipping in the snow. Timur grabs her arm as she nears the edge, though he doesn’t look away from his conversation. 

She nods her thanks- Felwinter catches her eye, nods back- and climbs upwards, pausing to rest in a small alcove. Her legs ache from the strain, and the glare of the snow is giving her a headache. Sighing, she sits, Ghost spinning above her, looking out at the snowy mountains. 

Skorri climbs up beside her, grimacing as she bends her fingers. “This experience isn’t making it past the campfire,” she says, turning to stare out at the distant ridges. “The view might, though. ‘Up Felwinter Peak in the swirling snow / dappled sunlight colors the rocks below.’ Hm.” 

Below them, pebbles skitter downwards. “We’re almost there,” Felwinter calls. “Then it’s just a matter of getting down.” 

Efrideet climbs back down to the path, landing with a muffled thump beside Timur. Skorri hangs above, not wanting to test how many Guardians can occupy a single ledge before one gets pushed down the mountainside.

Efrideet forges ahead past Felwinter, the path clear enough now that she can see the way to the top. She stops before she reaches the summit, though, opting to wait on the rocky step just before it. 

Skorri arrives shortly after, singing some pre-Golden Age song Tyra had taught her. She’s followed by Felwinter and Timur, the former content to hang behind once they had Efrideet’s footsteps to follow. His and Timur’s conversation, still indecipherable, seems to have moved from Ghost resurrection to the Deep Stone Crypt to the very existence of Light. 

The three of them fall quiet as they reach the summit, if only for a few minutes. Efrideet understands why Gheleon prefers the silence of his rooms. Up here, where the noise below is drowned out by the snow, it’s peaceful. She can see the neighboring Warlords’ territories from here, the Fallen skiffs breaking orbit, but they seem insignificant- as if they have, however briefly, ceased to be a threat. 

Skorri starts her song again eventually, breaking the group out of their reverie. Efrideet transmats up the materials she’d gathered this morning- a dozen or so large stones, an assortment of firewood. She builds a small campfire, Timur transmats in some old crates to sit on, and Skorri lights the fire with a flourish. 

“It’ll never go out,” she says dramatically, taking a stick straight from the fire and waving it idly. “It might outlive us.” 

“We’ll be here as long as there’s a Temple to return to,” Efrideet says. 

“And you say I’m too poetic,” Skorri mutters, but she’s grinning. 

The sun continues its slow climb downwards, leaving the alcove cast in shadow. The others are grouped around the bonfire below, shouting greetings and jokes up the mountain, straining to be heard. Skorri sings as loud as she can; Perun deftly climbs up the cliff to join her, not wanting to miss her favorite part of the night.

  


A few hours later, when the fire below has burned out and the chill’s finally digging in through her armor, Efrideet jumps off the Peak with a yell. Skorri goes into Radiance just before she leaps, singing as she falls. 

“Shooting ourselves would be easier,” Perun says, shaking her head. She’s smiling, though, watching as Skorri lands gracefully below, wings flaring out to soften her landing. 

“You sound like Gheleon.” 

“We can’t have that.” She laughs, quiet, like she thinks it’ll carry all the way down. “Maybe Skorri will catch me, save my Ghost a little Light.” 

“She might,” Timur says. “Then again, she has enough Light to last all of us a while.” 

Perun nods, takes a step off the cliff like she expects solid ground to be there. Felwinter watches as she falls; Silimar’s bubble is up in the courtyard, and Perun lands neatly in it, rolling as she hits the ground. She sits up, and Skorri rushes to help her stand. 

“Time to return, I think,” Timur says, standing to stretch. “Sleep up here if you must, but some of us have hypothermia to worry about.” 

Felwinter snorts, jaw lights flashing. “That could’ve been how you died the first time.” 

“And you could have fallen into a lake and short-circuited. For now, though, we must accept that some things are unknowable.” He knocks the snow off of Felwinter’s shoulders. “Well, if you’re staying up here, goodnight. If you’re not,” he adds, “I’ll be by your room later. Tyra gave me a few transcripts that I think you’d be interested in.” 

Timur closes his eyes and steps off the ledge. He lands in the courtyard, stormtrance stopping him a few inches above the ground, which Skorri delights in. Felwinter follows him down, landing less gracefully; Timur pulls him to his feet once his Ghost brings him back. 

Jolder watches from the steps, the fire behind her backlighting her armor. Her hair fans out around her cheeks, red-gold in the dim light. “Radegast put coffee on,” she announces to the seven of them, “and there’s food in the oven.” 

It’s enough to get their attention. As all of them crowd inside, talking and laughing and full of Light, Skorri’s fire burns bright above them. 

(Centuries later, it remains.)

**Author's Note:**

> (finally) went and got the siva cluster at the top of the peak on saturday, so i figured this was fitting. 
> 
> thank you for reading! glad to finally have time to write + post again, lol.


End file.
